


Warning: Chains May Be Weaker Than They Appear

by GrenCloutGod



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Prison Escape, Rating May Change, There they go!, gren cries, hurt runaan, i guess?, like at the start lmao, lord virgin can and will be a bitch, runaan is grumpy, theres just generally quite of gren angst. Grangst, two bros chillin in a dungeon chained far apart and theyre both gay, will update tags when i figure out where this is going!, wow! theyre breaking out i guess!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-19 00:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrenCloutGod/pseuds/GrenCloutGod
Summary: Still air weighed heavily in the dungeon. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, buzzing and shifting into shapes impossible. An uncomfortable silence encased what seemed to be the whole world, split only by the shallow breath of the lone body within. He sat in chains, arms aching and suspended. Remnants of blood that was not his own stained his hands, his face, his chest. The blood of the king, and the blood of his own kind.Or, Two Bros, Chillin in a Dungeon, Chained Far Apart and They’re Both Gay. Until, of course they break out.





	1. Runaan Is Grumpy

Still air weighed heavily in the dungeon. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, buzzing and shifting into shapes impossible. An uncomfortable silence encased what seemed to be the whole world, split only by the shallow breath of the lone body within. He sat in chains, arms aching and suspended. Remnants of blood that was not his own stained his hands, his face, his chest. The blood of the king, and the blood of his own kind. Even in the dimness the promise he made, in the form of an enchanted ribbon, reflected moonlight that could not penetrate the cold stone walls. A sharp and jagged pain radiates through his chest. Runaan winces, and can almost feel his broken ribs rub against eachother. Black spots dance in his vision, he welcomes sleep with open, aching arms. Blood drips from his mouth. 

It is the sound of stone grinding against stone that wakes him, followed by the distinct sound of heavy footsteps. Runaan cannot see out of the room, the entrance blocked by a heavy wooden door, but he can hear a muffled struggle. Voices float around him, through the stale air but he has no interest in whoever may be imprisoned out in the hall. The jangle of chains cut through the other noise and the voices raised. Runaan could make out one in particular,

‘Soren!’ it shouted, ‘This- This is unnecessary!’ For a moment chains rattled, ‘Hey! Hey, Don’t just leave me down here!’ 

The other voice, which Runaan assumed must be Soren, replied, chuckling,   
‘You heard what my father said! He’ll see you around nine!’ 

Runaan listened to the heavy, armoured footsteps recede for a moment then the crunch of the spiral staircase disappearing into the ceiling. The man in the hallway sighed loudly. Runaan did not care. In his mind he is already dead, and the dead do not care for others. He waited as time crawled onwards, perpetual and ultimately meaningless. 

A bone-achingly long time later, footsteps approaches Runaan. His door opened, but he did not look up. He already knew it was the Mage’s daughter, come to bring food. She spoke to him, surprisingly gentle, something about how he will die if he doesn’t eat. He did not eat. Her father came. He still did not eat. They left him in darkness and soon it swallowed him whole again. 

The next time Runaan woke he was overwhelmed by an array of radiating pains. In his snapped horn, in his shattered ribs and in his bruising arm, slowly being destroyed by that cursed, intricate ribbon. The next thing he noticed however, was the surprising lack of silence. His eyes remained closed as he listened. The tune was vaguely familiar and although it was only being hummed, it pierced the heavy silence comfortably. He shifted slightly and the voice stopped humming. Silence returned for a split second, then,

‘Hello?’ the other prisoner said, voice echoing slightly off the cold stone. They paused for a moment, ‘I know there’s someone there! I heard them talking about you!’ 

Runaan stayed silent. He was in no mood to talk, let alone to a human. 

‘Hey! i can SEE you!’

Runaan dragged his gaze upwards, confused momentarily. The heavy door that separated his cell from the rest of the cold stone dungeon was flung open and through the dimness the elf could stare directly at the man yelling at him. His face was covered in a smattering of freckles and a mop of pale red hair hung limply on his forehead. His cheeks were slightly reddened from straining to see down the hallway. Soft blue eyes caught Runaan’s for a moment, and the human’s mouth slipped open slightly. Runaan looked away. The man scoffed,

‘We just made eye contact! You cant-don’t just ignore me?’ 

Runaan ignored him and kept his gaze fixed on the ground. The stone was cracked and worn, covered in dried blood. The elf wasnt sure who’s it was, nor did he care to find out. He looked away from the blood. The man spoke again,

‘You-you’re an elf?’ he asked, ‘I’ve never met an elf before!’ 

Runaan sighed. He really hoped, of he continued to ignore it, the human would stop talking at some point. 

‘My name is Gren!’ he continued after a few seconds of silence. ‘What’s your name?’. Before Runaan could reply the man cut in, ‘wait! do-do elves have names? You’d have names right? It just wouldn’t make sense if you-‘

‘If i tell you my name will you be quiet?’ Runaan interrupted, glaring at the human, Gren, who’s mouth hung open, mid-word. The elf’s patience was worn thin. He watched the man fumble with his words for a moment,

‘I-yes, I-I suppose so?’ he sighed after a moment. 

Runaan shifted, and cracked his neck, soothing some of the stiffness. He tried wet his lips, but found his mouth too dry from his abstinence from drinking while captured. Finally, he answered

‘My name is Runaan, now leave me alone’

With that Gren sighed and slipped out of view.


	2. Angsty Gren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> viren is weird n gren is sad. and stressed. also tired and hungry.

Gren felt terrible, and that was putting it lightly. He was stuck in a cold, dim dungeon instead of searching for the lost princes, failing miserably at his mission. Knowing that he was failing Amaya felt like a punch in the face. His jaw ached and his lower lip felt busted open, although those pains were from an actual punch in the face. The man had only been trapped in the bowels of the castle for what must have been a few hours, but his hands were already numb and wrists bruised from his struggles. Gren scanned his surroundings for anything that may aide his escape, but found little more than creepy knick-knacks and dusty books, much to his displeasure. More than anything, Gren hated the silence. It was not companionable, like with Amaya, nor was it peaceful. This silence made the air thick with anxiety and bitter with loneliness. The red head knew he was not alone in the dungeon, but his attempts to make idle conversation seemed to not only fall flat, but greatly irritate his cell mate. Or was it dungeon mate? either way, Gren found it disheartening to say the least. He hung his head and willed the aching in his chest to disappear. It did not. Time slipped by at a crawl, and the ache in his chest only grew. 

It must have been morning the next time the spiral staircase curled down into the dungeon, the sudden noise jarring Gren and making him jump slightly. The sound of the staircase and his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears masked the woeful moan the aged wood gave behind his head as he tugged. The High Mage rounded the side of the staircase a moment later and observed Gren. Something unnameable in Lord Viren’s eyes made him shiver, then his thin lips twisted into a shape between a smile and a snarl. Every part of Gren told him to stay far, far away from that face, but he could do little more than shrink back ever so slightly. His pride told him otherwise. He opened his mouth,

‘Good morning, Lord Virgin’ Gren said, forcing as much cheer into his voice as he can manage. He smiles with faux pleasantness. Viren exhales sharply through his nose.

‘You’re shaking.’ he drawled, then paused for a moment, ‘Pathetic’ he spat.

Gren swallows as Viren’s gaze lingers for a moment. The younger hadn’t even noticed the subtle tremble in his hands and legs, but tries to still them as best he can. The mage stalked off down the hallway after what felt like far too long and Gren let go of the breath he was holding. He sagged against the wall, suddenly exhausted. The commander had not slept, nor eaten or drunk anything and was struck with the abrupt notion that Viren would simply leave him there to die of thirst or hunger. The thought terrified him, and before he has time to think through the reasons why he most likely would not die in the dungeon, Gren’s throat tightened and he found himself choking down a sob. Warm tears spilled onto his cheeks and his shoulders, heavy with armour he wished he could just take off, shook slightly. When Viren returned from the other cell he did not even spare the red head a glance, and for that he would be eternally grateful. Even once the spiral staircase had receded into the jagged stone ceiling Gren continued to shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: hm what should i do next with this Very Original tdp fanfic concept?  
> dark me: make gren cry  
> me: aite
> 
> also sowwy for any typos i wrote this at 1am on my phone so! yeehaw theres gotta be some


	3. Just Havin a Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk a bit. thats It.

The High Mage’s words rung in Runaan’s ears as he replayed the brief conversation they had shared. Viren’s parting words still hung in the air, heavy and menacing.  
The silver light had caught in the creases and hollows of the human’s face, giving him an unnerving, skeletal appearance, as he had promised to seek out a fate worse than death for the elf. As much as Runaan hated to admit it, he did still fear whatever may be in store. He turned his attention to the cloth-covered object Viren had left in the cell. The room seemed to buzz with the energy emitting from the item, it’s essence vaguely familiar. Runaan tried to focus, tried to place it, but couldn’t. He sat in the silence of the dungeon for another moment, mind racing. More meaningless time slipped by, until an odd sound caught in his ear. Staring into the dimness, the elf sighed and listened to the old depths of the ancient castle. He listened, hearing drip to his left, then another to his right, then the sound again. It was coming from the hallway, blocked from view by the heavy wooden door Viren had shut upon his exit. Runaan listened again. The world seemed silent for a moment, then he caught it. A muffled, and choked off sniffle. Runaan was surprised.

‘Are you crying?’ he asked, confusion barely audible. A weak voice answered back from the dark,

‘N-no’, he said, unconvincingly. A second passed, followed by another sniffle. Although no one could see him, Runaan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

‘Why are you crying?’ he asked instead. It was a fair question, its not like the wicked mage had directly threatened the human with a fate worse than death. If anything Viren may bore the man to death, but still he waited for Gren’s answer. 

‘I am not crying!’ he replied, voice cracking slightly. The indignity in the human’s tone perplexed Runaan, but he left the words in the air and did not ask again. He observed his arm, slowly turning a sickening shade of purple. It was not yet numb, but tingled in a painful way, fixed above his head. He knew the worst was yet to come. The ribbon glittered in the dimness as Runaan let his eyes slip shut yet again. 

Gren had started talking into the silence of the dungeon some time during the elf’s sleep. Runaan preferred it over the dismal silence of the cold dungeon for once, and he listened for a few minutes. The man was telling a story, but the elf was too weary to focus on the words. They seemed to rebound off the walls and warp into whitenoise. A sentence drifted into focus, his own name snagging his attention. 

‘Runaan! do you ever think about how your skeleton is always wet?’ Gren shouted, louder than before. 

The question was absurd, of course. Runaan had to fight down the urge to laugh, 

‘I am already dead’ Runaan replied steadily. 

He heard Gren sigh from the other room. 

‘You know, Runaan, thats a pretty pessimistic thing to say’ he said, voice tinged slightly with sadness.

Runaan rolled his eyes. 

‘And what do you expect optimism to do in this situation?’ He replied after a moment. 

The door to his cell was still closed so he couldn’t see the scowl on the face of his human company, but he most definitely heard it in his voice,

‘Well,’ Gren began slowly, ‘Don’t you have people you’d want to go back to?’ 

Much to Runaan’s dismay, the man was right. 

‘Yes, I do’ the elf answered back carefully into the darkness. 

Gren inhaled sharply, and Runaan heard him shift forwards in his chains,

‘Who?’ he asked back. The assassin didn’t answer. Instead, the elf left Gren to his thoughts as his own mind wandered. He thought of his family, of Xaidia, of his gentle partner, waiting for his return. The thought that he may never see any of it again came to Runaan like a knife and lodged painfully in his chest. Suddenly, he realised he did not want to die in this cold, disgusting, human land. 

The elf was aware that he must first be freed of the chains that bind him to the dungeon wall. He wrapped his good hand around the chain, once, twice, then gathered his remaining strength, tensed and pulled. Runaan’s torso radiated painfully, and he winced. It was going to be a long job, but he was certain he could get the chains to budge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back babey. 2 hours of sleep is great for writing!


	4. Lord Virgin Sucks Again!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hes just a real loser tbh

The next time the staircase shuddered down into the dungeon Gren was far more composed. The young Lieutenant greeted Viren with a practiced, sunny smile,

‘Good to see you again, Lord Viren’ he said, chipper. 

Viren let out a slight sigh, then turned to face him. 

‘And why are you in such a good mood?’ he asked. Irritation laced the Dark Mage’s tone and it satisfied Gren greatly. He smiled even wider, then went to speak again when a strange, creaking sound echoed from the hallway. The man paused for a moment, thinking, then realised that whatever the sound was, it was caused by the elven assassin.

‘Could he be capable of escaping his bindings?’ The idea bounced around Gren’s mind for a split second. Whatever Runaan was doing, he would need more time. 

‘Well, my lord- do you mind if I call you that? You do look very Lordly with your, uh,’ His numb hands gestured vaguely at Viren, ‘Clothes?’ 

The man standing in front of him did very little to hide his annoyance. He blinked slowly. ‘These are the same clothes I’ve always worn’ he said slowly, as if Gren was thick.

‘Ah,’ Gren cleared his throat, ‘I see.’ 

Another sound emanated from Runaan’s cell, this time cold and metallic. Lord Viren turned towards it, muttering,

‘What is that sou-‘ 

‘Actually!!’ Gren cut in loudly, ‘ The reason I’m in such a good mood, Lord Viren, is I’ve been thinking about what General Amaya will do once she learns you’ve disobeyed her direct orders’ 

Viren snapped his head back towards Gren with a snarl,

‘How dare you!’ he started, voice dripping with venomous rage, ‘be quiet you, or else’ 

The Lieutenant continued, rather bravely, he might add, considering the filthy look the dark mage was giving him,

‘She’d totally punch you, like right in the face, and you’re gonna be all like,’ Gren flailed his hands around slightly, then began doing a terrible, slightly nasally, impression of Lord Viren. ‘Oh nooooo!’ He wailed, exaggeratedly, ‘General Amaya please!’ 

Viren was suddenly very close, his hands gripped Gren’s collar and lifted him slightly off his feet, crushing him against the harsh stone wall. When he spoke, the other could feel his breath on his face,

‘I should have your tongue cut out for such insolence’ The taller whispered coldly, then, with a wicked smile continued, ‘Or, better yet,’ Viren reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a strange object. The hair on the back of Gren’s neck stood on end, the unnerving energy seemingly coming from the item made his gut twist. 

‘I could just take your obnoxious voice’

The Lord let go of Gren and stepped back a pace. He held up the artifact slightly and spoke, his voice seeming to split into multiple, and echo unnaturally around the chamber. Then, a ghostly yellowed hand slipped towards the man chained to the wall and forced its way into his mouth. Gren struggled against the intrusion, but it was gone as soon as it came. The hand pulled back, holding a small glowing orb. He wanted to shout, to call out to Runaan, or to anyone, but when he tried no sound came from his mouth. Gren’s breathing quickened. He was a translator, he was nothing without his voice. Even down in the dark bowels of the castle, he could bother Runaan with his voice. His only connection to another living being was held in the palm of a ghostly, glowing hand. If Gren could scream, he would have. The anguish on his face must have been clear, as Lord Viren gave a small, cruel laugh. 

‘Ah, isn’t that much nicer?’ He said calmly. He turned and placed the hand on a table nearby, Gren’s voice still held firmly in its thin fingers. Viren smiled, 

‘Now, time to go find out what that sound was’ He walked steadily away, disappearing down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day! yeehaw


	5. Viren Gets Beet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan Beetus Viren’s Meatus (not in the kinky, fun way)

Heeled footsteps made their way ever closer to Runaan. In a matter of moments he would come face to face with the High Mage and he would not like what he saw. Shattered shards of the enchanted mirror lay strewn over the ground, and the chains that once held the elf captive hung limp, the top section against the dungeon wall, the bottom from Runaan’s wrists. He crouched in the darkness of his cell, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt more powerful than ever. The door to his cell creaked open, and Lord Viren stepped over the threshold. For half a moment, the world seemed incredibly still. Then, from his place in the shadows, Runaan lunged forwards and slams into the human. He lets out a choked wheeze as he topples backwards, landing onto the stone floor with a loud crack. The human and elf struggle on the ground for a moment, Runaan landing on top. Viren reeled forwards and crashed his forehead into the others face. The elf let out a cry and the mage landed a punch, solid enough to squirm out from under him. Viren scrambled away, lodging shattered glass into his flesh, towards his staff, which had been knocked into the corner of the cell. He reached towards it with bleeding hands and turned, beginning to chant. He was cut off by a fist to the face, landing high on his cheek, then another. The sound of crunching bone was sickening, as blood sprayed from the human’s nose. Viren lashed out blindly with his staff, colliding with Runaan’s arm, the sharpened edge tearing a gash in his skin. Runaan winced and moved back, glass cracking underfoot. Viren followed, fist flying towards the assassin, only to be grabbed and moved. In a split second the mage’s hand was trapped inside a manacle. His chest heaving he roared,

‘You filthy moonshadow elf!’ Viren snarled, spittle flying. He raised his staff, but Runaan ripped it from his wounded hands and flung it across the cell, far out of the human’s reach. 

‘I should have killed you the moment I had the chance’ The Mage screamed at him. Runaan stared at him for a moment, his eye was swelling shut and blackening, his nose was crooked and bloody and most of his exposed skin was littered with tiny cuts. 

‘Yes, Viren. You certainly should have.’ The elf turned to leave, blood dripping from his hands yet again. He closed the heavy wooden door after him, bathing Lord Viren in darkness. Runaan continued into the next room, the taste of unfamiliar blood in his mouth. He rounded the corner and caught sight of the spiral staircase and he intended to make a beeline for it, but the jangling of chains caught his attention. He turned his head and looked at Gren. The human was waving his arms as wildly as possible given the way they were chained to the wall, and his mouth was moving, forming words quickly, but no sound came out. 

‘Lose your voice Gren?’ Runaan asked lightheartedly. 

The grimace on the mans face made him do a double take however. Gren nodded his head frantically, then jerked it towards something behind Runaan. He followed the other’s gaze and spotted a glowing orb held strongly in a pale, yellowed hand. He grabbed it off the shelf and examined it closer, something about it vaguely familiar. The elf furrowed his brow,

‘Huh’ he concluded smartly. Runaan returned his attention to Gren, suddenly focused. He walked nearer to the human, 

‘Do you know a way out of this place?’ 

As much as he disliked it, Runaan knew he wouldnt be able to sneak out of the castle without help, and Gren could do the job just fine. The human nodded again, then glanced down hopefully, to the magical object the elf was holding. Runaan slipped it into his pocket with a sigh. He didnt have to look back to know Gren’s face was twisted in dismay, so he turned and began searching for something to open his chains. After a moment, Runaan sighed again,

‘It’s simply insurance, Gren.’ he said with his back to the man, ‘Something to make sure you wont double cross me. I’m sure you understand’ 

The elf’s gaze landed on a rusted ring with a multitude of keys attached. He grabbed it then returned to the human and began trying to fit each key in the lock. While he worked, Runaan glanced down at Gren, who stared skeptically back at him. The red-head opened his mouth to speak again, but only a quiet sigh escaped him. Sadness flickered across his face for a moment, before Gren let his head fall forwards, concealing the emotion. He rested heavily on Rubaan’s exposed shoulder for a moment as the elf continued his task. He could feel the human’s breath on his neck. He tried another key, and the manacle clicked open. Gren’s head shot back up as Runaan pulled his arm from the chain. He winced at the numbness in his arm beginning to give way to painful tingling as blood returned to the limb, and soon his other arm was freed. For a split second he stood on his own before his knees buckled and he reeled forwards into the elf with a gasp. He collided with Runaan and he staggered back under the sudden weight, grunting at the pain radiating across his body. The elf turned and shifted, propping Gren against the dungeon wall. He straightened up, and the human caught his eye, mouthing a few words. ‘Sorry’ was all he could make out. Viren’s voice leapt from the cell down the hall,

‘This chain won’t keep me for long, elf.’ A heavy venom laced his voice, dripping with malicious intent. ‘You won’t make it out of the castle, I can promise you that’

Gren looked at Runaan again, face torn between horror and surprise. The human was so expressive it was almost obnoxious, and although his voice lay tucked away in Runaan’s pocket, it was hard to miss what was going through his mind. The human was a soldier, his armour gave that much away, and yet he wore his heart on his sleeve. He left the elf puzzled to say the least. Runaan pushed the thought to the side,

‘We shouldn’t linger here. Can you walk?’ The man on the floor nodded in response. Runaan used his good arm to sling Gren’s still-numbed limb across his shoulders and pulled him off the floor. He wobbled for a moment in the other’s arms. A clatter from the other cell spurred them into motion towards the towering spiral staircase. Soon it slid up in place behind them both, leaving Viren in the dungeon. 

A gust of wind greeted the pair, eminating deep from the darkness of the winding tunnels beneath the castle. To the human eye it was pitch black, but to Runaan the light was barely dim. Beside him, the elf could see Gren squinting through the dark, hand resting against the jagged wall, as if to orient himself. He moved and placed a hand on his shoulder, making the man jump. After a moment he turned to face him, despite not being able to make out much more than a vague outline of the other’s form. Gren made an almost crossing motion with his pointer fingers, then raised his hand to his cheek, then, with his first two fingers outstretched, tapped his cheek once. Runaan didn’t understand, 

‘Which direction is out then?’ He asked instead. 

This caused Gren to shake his head sharply. He repeated the same motions, slower a few times, then sighed heavily, before waving his hand in front of his face. Runaan blinked, confused for a moment before.

‘You can’t see.’ He concluded, then raised his eyebrows, ‘Humans have terrible eyesight’. 

Gren tried to scoff, but no sound came from his mouth. This sparked an idea in Runaans mind, and he reached into his pocket, producing the ghastly hand holding the humans voice. It glowed in the dim and cast deep shadows on every surface. Gren blinked against it for a moment before reaching for it. Runaan snatched the hand away,

‘This will have to do for light, don’t go breaking it’ Gren scowled at the elf, who cracked the slightest smile, ‘Lead the way, Commander’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh i dont like this chapter it feels ooc but Oh well. Sorry for not updating for a while i have constant writers block uwu

**Author's Note:**

> Yeehaw this is my first fic literally ever so! Hope u lads like it. i havent written anything other than essays for ages either so im a bit rusty but yeah. im gonna try and update this kinda often. also gren is trans because im trans and i said so. it has no relevance to the fic im just sayin lmao. thank u for ur time


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